We'll All Drown
by amariys
Summary: And Renji wonders if monsters ever had souls. Warning: Spoilers alert.


**Title: **We'll All Drown

**Writer: **Amariys

**Words count: **1090 words

**Fandom/Characters: **Tokyo Ghouls/Yomo Renji, Uta.

**Pairing(s): **None. Maybe hints of Renji/Uta if you squint badly.

**Disclaimer: **Tokyo Ghouls isn't mine. No trademark infringement or profit meant from the writing of this story.

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **And Renji wonders if monsters ever had souls.

**Warnings: **Spoilers alert. Absurdity. Fragmented paragraphs it may not make sense. Possible OOCness due to first fic in fandom.

**A/N: **Thanks to _popsky _for proofreading this piece for me! Also cross-posted on AO3.

* * *

><p>"Why did you tell Ken where to find me?"<p>

"Hmm, because Kaneki-kun is my precious customer … I think?"

The answer comes with slight lilt at the end, making it more a question than statement. Renji stares flatly at the mask-maker who's squatting in front of the damaged container, watching the writhing Rize with intrigued eyes, before deciding to save his breath.

His gaze trails on the wide-opened container instead, moving slowly downward to the ghoul who has once been feared as the binge eater and now is reduced to whimpering mess controlled by her own hunger. He closes his eyes.

"I need to move her. You'll help."

"I will?" An innocent tilt of head. "Why?"

"Because it's your fault Ken destroyed the container."

A moment of silence. The monster's eyes stare without blinking, although despite the darkness which dominates it, there's still a sense of childish curiosity, a bizarre thing to be found inside a creature who bathes itself in blood.

It's funny how humans easily accept those eyes as fashion statement; funny how people are blind to the darkness staring right at them.

Renji knows better.

"You can come home if you don't want to help," said Renji, feet already turning around to walk away before he even finished. There's no looking back; no hesitation in his strides. He almost reaches his own home when finally the sound of light rustles and gentle footsteps follow after him.

He doesn't smile.

(He knows better.)

.

.

"I want to make a mask for her."

The smell of coffee fills the room. One cup of the steaming, rich beverage rests atop of the table—untouched for now.

Uta reaches out a finger, tracing the rim of the cup, gathering condensed coffee right on his fingertip. One perfect circle. He lifts his finger, looking at the light chocolate water dripping from it. Slowly he brings the stained finger to his mouth; sucking; face impassive but for slight twitch of his upper lip as weak, diluted taste bursts on his tongue—unsatisfying.

(It's not enough; not _nearly _enough.)

"She doesn't need it."

Renji's voice comes close before his actual presence; responding to his earlier question. Uta pulls out his own finger with soft _pop_, a smile already forming before he looks up at the silver haired ghoul. The picture of genuine amusement.

"True. I've never made a mask for her though. Wonder what'll fit."

No answer comes. Instead, there's a sound of something quite heavy hitting the table. Uta's eyes move down, straight at the paper-wrapped bundle Renji has just thrown. It smells _delicious_.

"Snacks? Thank you, Renji-kun."

The only response Renji allows is a small nod. He curls his hand on his cup of coffee, sipping at the warm liquid while listening closely to the delighted hum Uta produces almost unconsciously as he opens the wrapping and finds chopped fingers of dead men.

(Snacks for the monsters.)

(The coffee passes Renji's throat smoothly, warming his inside before resting heavily in his stomach—it feels almost like lead.)

Renji turns his head away.

"She wouldn't allow you to take her measurements."

"Again, you're right. Maybe I'll have luck though. After all, you also refused to be measured by me at first."

His fingers twitch. Renji resists the urge to slide his gaze on the corner table—where his own raven mask is still kept neatly in the drawer—as memories resurface in his mind; so strong he can almost taste the blood on his tongue; the delicious scent of it filling his nostrils, forcing him to swallow the sudden flood of saliva, as if he's tearing apart people and ghouls alike with his bare hands _again_.

He doesn't miss those times.

(Only sometimes he _does_; he does and then he'll realize: a monster can never change into human.)

Light taps on his arm almost jolt Renji in surprise—but thankfully he has more control than that. He tilts his head back, eyebrows hitting his hair line when he sees two pale, chopped fingers being held towards him.

"I'll share."

(And some monsters don't even bother trying.)

.

.

"You like Kaneki-kun, don't you?"

Renji doesn't deem the question worthy of any answer. It's not a matter of like or hate; nothing such trivial as that—even though he only needs to take one look at Kaneki Ken to see his own younger self. Angry; bitter; hating everything and nothing at all without knowing any better.

A lost child; no longer human but not yet a monster. An oddity simultaneously fitting and unfitting in two places. Bereft.

(Kaneki Ken is walking in a limbo. Renji needs to keep him from falling out of it.)

His silence doesn't bother Uta. It's nothing he hasn't get used to during their years of friendship after all. Humming a light note under his breath, the mask-maker swings his legs idly. The view on top of the container which is also Renji's home isn't that great compared to the one they once saw back in the fourth ward, but it's not that bad either. The wind, at the very least, feels nice up here and the sense of nostalgia is a good enough reason for Uta to prefer the height.

"I like Kaneki-kun," said him. "He's an interesting customer. Very polite too. Almost sweet. I've always like well-behaved children like him."

Renji still doesn't say anything. He doesn't exactly think catching the eyes of monsters is a good thing—and Kaneki Ken attracts too many monsters to him.

(Like flame to moths. Maybe innocence is the perfect lure for monsters.)

"_Nec possum tecum vivere, nec sine te._"

The familiar Latin quote finally makes Renji shift his gaze back at Uta. The other's gently tracing the tattoo on his neck, long fingers just barely touching the skin almost like a lover's caress. Renji stares a bit longer at the words inked directly on Uta's skin—wonders when, exactly, the other decides to make it.

"I can't live with you nor without you." Renji picks up from where Uta has fallen silent. "What of it?"

"Hmm. I just wonder. It's a perfect quote to describe our relationship with humans. So …," tilting his head back, Uta gives Renji a wide smile full of teeth. The darkness of his _kakugan _is bewitching Renji into the depth of void and his voice is like a snare that holds Renji back from breaking through the nothingness.

"I wonder if it'll be perfect for Kaneki-kun too."

(And Renji wonders if monsters ever had souls.)

.

.

—**END.**


End file.
